


Kiss the Barrel

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chorus (Red vs. Blue), F/F, Non-Explicit Sex, Pre-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: In which Kimball runs across Carolina before season 12.Two Kimbalina ficlets, written after season 11.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [starkraving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkraving): "Kimball meets Carolina on Chorus and can't decide if she should hired the slightly scruffy Freelancer lady or, I dunno, fuck her into the floor? Both? Maybe both."
> 
> These ficlets were based on my pre-season 12 theory that Carolina was hunting down Freelancer tech stolen by the New Republic.

Her armor’s standard-issue, an agent could tell  _that_  even from across the square, through the stench and rattle and heat of a city soaked in paranoia, feds on every corner and at intervals between. Tense strangers stalk past, eyes down, pistols or blades concealed beneath jackets and against hips and down boots, even civilians clad in whatever bulletproof plate they can pull across their chests—waiting for another skirmish to erupt, another arrest, another demonstration drowned in gunfire.

Oh, it  _should_  be the rogue Freelancer, one of the last, who spots the rebel leader across the crumbling promenade, by all rights, but it isn’t. Because Vanessa Kimball’s armor is standard issue, because she knows, after these many months, how to lay low, because  _she_  isn’t the one swaggering through a crowd in modified Mark VI Stalker armor in bright cyan. Because Vanessa knows what  _she’s_  stolen, and from it, some of what’s left out there—enough to recognize another remnant at 50 meters. 

The swing of those hips though, that speaks something Vanessa hasn’t known in—oh, too long. She doesn’t need another reason to tail this wayward soldier, but two is better than one.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by lilyofgerudovalley: "I could really go for some Kimball/Carolina if you could swing it (though I know there's not a lot of characterization for Kimball, I'm sorry, I'm just too thirsty for this weird ship) or alternatively South/479er!"

It’s a very seamless transition, for both of them, rolling apart to their respective sides of the rented bed, neither of them taking even a moment to catch their breath. Vanessa sees it out of the corner of her eye, the way you see something fall you know you can’t catch, and a half a second later there’s a weathered but still impressive plasma rifle, unearthly Covenant blue, poised to kiss the barrel of her less impressive sidearm.

Vanessa guesses her aim is at least as good as her mouth.

“Drop it,” says the naked redhead.

“Like hell,” says Vanessa.

A smirk tugs at the redhead’s mouth. “If you wanted me dead you’d have come a lot better armed.”

That stings, but Vanessa keeps her mouth a hard line. “Got you out of that fancy armor, now, didn’t I.”

The redhead snorts. “I don’t need armor to kill you.”

Vanessa holds her pistol steady. “You aren’t here to kill me.”

The redhead’s voice is low and dry. “What makes you so sure about that.”

“Better armed. Would’ve done it already. You don’t seem like the black widow type.”

The redhead lets loose a harsh laugh. “You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you. More than a few somethings, I’m guessing.”

Vanessa arches an eyebrow. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

The redhead smirks again. Goes all the way up to her eyes, that confidence; it’s sincere. Vanessa doubts very much this woman needs a weapon to kill her, either, having just been intimately acquainted with those hard stretches of muscles and wire-tight reflexes, nimble hands she can still feel the shadows of on her skin.

Still, she knows a few tricks of her own.


End file.
